Phantom 2000
by Izulza
Summary: Erik is offered everything he could ever want: Immortality, a handsome face and Christine, but there is a catch all he has to do... is die. Rated M for sex & gruesome killings!
1. Chapter 1

_**Phantom 2000**_

**Author's Note:** Hi everybody. This started as a Vampire/Phantom story, but the more I thought about it the more it became a Dracula 2000 & Phantom of the Opera crossover. So here it is…

**P.S.** I am forbidden to watch Dracula 2000, so I'm basing this story off odd snippets I've seen & read.

**P.P.S.** Erik will at some point make an appearance with no shirt on.

**P.P.P.S.** And there will be no promises of regular updates

**Chapter 1**

**This Is Not Over (I am not talking about the introduction)**

A knock resounded off the walls in the De Chagny manor. The maid nearest to the door opened it revealing a gypsy women standing in the early bleak twilight. "Can I help you?" sweet Marie asked.

"I need to speak with Christine Daae." Her accent was thick and foreign, most likely from a place the young servant girl had never even heard of.

"Do come in." Protocol demand that Marie leave the guest outside until her master granted permission to enter, but it was cold outside and M. De Chagny was a very kind man, so the young girl allowed her into the entrance hall.

"Thank you very much." Once inside, the gypsy woman took the maid's hand and began patting her palm with two fingers mumbling in her native tongue, "A kindness for a kindness."

Marie withdrew her hand and nodded, not know how to respond. "Please wait here while I alert Mlle. Daae of your arrival….."

"Christine Daae does not know me, but I come with urgency."

Remembering that just the week before the lady of question was kidnapped by a madman who burnt down the Opera House, Marie thought this woman perhaps had vital information.

"You are a gypsy fortune-teller," the Vicomte De Chagny stated with caution. Raoul was never a believer of the supernatural so he thought this to be a scam of sorts.

"Yes, but please call me Caliptis and please monsieur I seek no profit from my visit here." De Chagny raised his eyebrow, wondering how she had guessed his thoughts.

"With that being said, why did you seek out my fiancée?" Raoul took a seat next to Christine and held her hand for future support.

Caliptis took a deep breath to steady herself for her story, "I had a vision of a man who lived in an underground cavern, and the right side of his face was ravaged-"

"I am sorry mademoiselle," the Vicomte interrupted, "but you could have easily read this in the paper, can prove this is no gypsy trickery?"

The fortune-teller sighed in annoyance. She was trying to help these people and if such a great evil were not involved, she would have walked out by now. "Because in one corner of his home there were many drawing and sketches of your lady from when she was young to womanhood," the gypsy stated flatly.

"Raoul," Christine almost whispered, reliving the moment when her angel showed her his collection. "She speaks the truth."

Raoul squeezed her hand and nodded for Caliptis to continue.

"What I saw was a man. His cries were inhumanly pitiful. He was a horrible sight not just because of his face, but also the look of despair and sorrow was unbearable to gaze at." Christine felt her stomach churn viciously with guilt at the thought of causing her Angel such pain. The future Vicomtess braced herself for more horrible news.

Erik sat on the edge of the lake, stroking the face of one of his many figurines that resemble Christine, crying his already shattered heart out. That seemed to almost all he could do for the past week, other than sleep. It was never for long and his dreams were always plagued with her and promise of the future that will never be. "Oh, Christine…"

"Ah, so that that is her name." Erik leapt to his feet and faced his intruders, six of them. One man handsome looking and wearing the finest clothes in all of Paris, while the five beautiful women all looked dishevelled and wore the clothes of personal harems, yet all six of them were deathly pale with demon red eyes. "I should have known it was a woman who could bring such a powerful man as the Phantom down to such a pathetic state as you are now," the man continued.

"Who are you and what do you want?!" Erik attempted to roar, but days of crying and lack of sleep, allowed him only to choke.

"I was Sir Thomas Maricardo," the well-dressed man gestured to himself with pride.

"Was?" the Phantom questioned, thinking he did not hear correctly.

"Yes, well you see," Sir Thomas began, "We are dead," he stated nonchalantly.

"What?" Erik gasped in disbelief.

"And as to what we want, we want to make a deal with you."

"What. Are. You?" Erik demanded pressing his hands to the side of his head as he felt his mind reel out of control.

Maricardo sighed in annoyance, seeing this was doing to take longer than he originally intended, "My brides and I are what you call vampires. We are the undead. We all were once alive, but are now caught between life and death. Well, more dead than alive. I was killed two hundred years ago in my own bed, by what I thought was a lady of the night, and I have not aged a day since. Over time I claimed these fine ladies as my brides and possessions, they belong and serve solely me. Being already dead no human weapon can ever hope to destroy us, with the exception of holy artefacts."

"You seem to have everything. What could you possibly want from me? I have nothing!" The Opera Ghost pronounced with anger.

"You have blood."

"Excuse me?"

"Blood. Oh, that is something I forgot to mention. Since we are dead we have no need for food or drink, however we must sustain ourselves by quenching our thirst with human blood."

"So you want to kill me."

"Yes, but if we do, you will become one of us for eternity."

_An eternity of this before your eyes…_ honestly the idea of being ugly forever did not appeal to him, but before he could refuse, Thomas seemed able to read his mind somehow. "If do become one of us, you will twice benefit personally. One: your body shall transform into a perfect version of yourself." Erik raised his only eyebrow. "All of your scars and that thing on the side of your face will just," he paused and waved his hands in the air. "Disappear. As for the second…"

Erik processed what Sir Thomas said for a minute, when he was interrupted again. "Do you love her?" Erik looked up to see Maricardo hold a figurine of Christine in the wedding dress.

"Yes," he said without hesitation.

"Would you die for her?"

"A thousand times over."

"Would you die," Thomas held a doll that resembled the Phantom next to the Christine one, "To be with her?"

_I could have her, he thought. I could rid myself of this infection. Live forever… with Christine_. The Phantom of the Opera had decided, "All you want is my blood." _No this is too good to be true!_ "How do I know this is not some trick and you plan on killing me?"

"Let's face it Erik, if I did kill you, I would be doing you a favour."

There was a long moment of silence. "Alright, what must I do?"

The head vampire made a gesture for his brides toward their prey, "Lay back and allow them to feed." With lightning speed the five women picked Erik up and began carrying him to his bed; however he had one last inquiry, "Will this be painful?"

Maricardo shrugged, "At first, but after… it will feel like you're making love to five women at the same time."

The next thing Erik knew was being pinned down to his own bed. The harem women each took their positions. Two held him down by his wrists, two others took hold of his upper thighs and the last one placed his head on her lap. "I already feel his pulse quickening," the blonde who held down his left arm crooned. God they even sounded demonic!

"My sisters," the raven haired one began stroking his neck, where his pulse could be found, "Let us feast!" At that their fangs came out and each bride plunged them into their respective places: Two in each wrist, two in his upper thighs, and lastly the lead harem woman bent down and sank her fangs into his jugular. Erik screamed in agonizing pain with each bite.

Finally, after a few moments the Phantom began to feel an overwhelming sense of pleasure. Slowly he could feel the very life drawn right out of him and yet he could not find the will to fight against the feel of slipping into oblivion. Only one last thought past his mind as he gasped his final breath…

_**Erik is dead…**_

Yep there you have it. I killed Erik in the first chapter of the first Dracula/Phantom crossover!

Just a couple of notes:

I have no plans for Sir Thomas Maricardo to surface again in this story, but I may change my mind. He is an OC as are his brides.

A Lady of the Night is/was a prostitute or hooker.

Any other questions, feel free to ask.

And speaking of questions has anyone here seen Dracula 2000?


	2. The Wedding night?

**Phan3145:** Thanks for the offer & help…& sorry for the spoiler.

And to my other Readers: Sorry For SUCH a long wait. *COOKIES 4 EVERYBODY!*

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_Phantom 2000 Part 2_

**_The Wedding Night?_**

There was silence. Dead silence. Dead silence in the room. Christine felt absolutely sick to her stomach with guilt. She got up and stumbled, before Raoul caught her. His fiancée burst into tears. "This is all my fault!"

"No Christine," the Vicomte tried to reassure her. "What he did was he own decision."

"No!" The young woman cried out pushing him away. "Even if Erik hadn't chosen to die, I broke him! I broke him to a point where- where he may as well have been dead already! I practically stabbed him in the heart when all he ever did was love me and ask for my heart in return!" She was sobbing now. "God why?! Why could I not return his love?!"

Her outburst stung De Chagny in the heart, but he simply tried to convince herself it was just the guilt talking. He tried to tell himself that she had been though a lot and was confused, especially with her emotions. He often thought women were fickle when it came to their feelings. He must just be patient and soon he'd have his Little Lotte back, so they could live happily together. He hoped.

"There is more," The gypsy woman said, reminding everybody of her existence in the lavish room.

"There is more?!" How much more could Christine take?

"Oui! A warning."

"A warning?" Raoul was not sure how much of this 'Phantom/Undead/fortune teller' business anyone would be able to take. He looked at his future wife, who looked ready to faint. He would have said no, but already he had ignored a warning that ended in disaster. The Vicomte sighed, "Alright! What is the warning?"

"Erik, as you say his name is, has every intention of coming for your woman and not only wants to make her his, but the same as what he has become: a vampire. But there may be hope."

"Tell us!" De Chagny demanded.

"If the two of you were to wed, tonight, and consummate, Erik would not be able to make claim to Christine Daae."

Raoul sat anxiously and impatiently on the white satin bed awaiting his new wife. Christine had entered the en suit bathroom a while ago to both ready herself and calm herself down.

Before he had given the gypsy woman a chance to leave or any form of gratitude, he was on his feet making arrangements for him and Christine to be married before nightfall. Soon after her warning, they were in a carriage headed toward a quaint church that agreed to wed them on such short notice with the help of a _small_ donation. The Vicomte snorted at the fact that he had to bribe a church in a time of need and desperation.

The boy ran his hands through his hair and sighed with guilt because he had been unable to give his wife the wedding she deserved. She should have had a big white wedding, with beautiful expensive gown worthy of a queen, half of Paris in attendance, and Notre Dame begging for the honour to wed them.

Raoul thought back to the wedding they _did_ have: Christine had been wearing the dark blue the dress she had put on that morning, all that Raoul had done was put on some cologne while they waited for the carriage and the vehicle that had driven them had been a cheap, last-minute rental. The whole time he could not decide whether Christine was in a state of shock or mourning, but either way she was distant throughout the entire service. Even when they shared the bridal kiss he had the sinking feeling that another man's face had blossomed in her mind.

He laid himself on the bed and thought, "At least you have one thing that you _know_ will not be a completely disappointment," he smirked to himself. The Vicomte began thinking about running his hands up his wife's body, slowly and tenderly. Her soft delicate moans….

"_**RAOUL!" **_

Christine stood in the over lavish bathroom in a white night gown that was revealing enough for the specific occasion while she stared at her reflection in the mirror, half wishing for an Angel to appear in her stead. The Vicomtess fiddled with her outfit and knew she now regretted everything: Pulling _his_ mask off, running to Raoul & calling _him _monster, courting Raoul knowing it would hurt _him_, pulling off _his_ mask -again, choosing Raoul in …. Then it hit her. She had not in fact chosen her childhood sweetheart! In the end, Erik told her to go with him, because he thought she did not love him, _but she did! _

Christine gasped and put her hands over her mouth while her epiphany sunk in. _She loved him. She was in love with him!_ Tears pricked at her eyes when she realized she had just made things worse by marrying Raoul. She knew now there would be no way for her to go through with the wedding night, she just could not do that to Erik. Raoul would be hurt, but it was not like it was impossible for him to find love again. The young woman took a deep breath, closed her eyes and took herself back to when she kissed him: everything was still, yet at the same time she felt as if everything was in full speed. Their hearts racing, the explosion of heat he inspired within her body and the very idea that he cried afterwards made her heart break.

Back in reality, cold seemed to shoot up her body and she paled when she felt a freezing hand run through her hair. She could not bring herself to move and the whole time keeping her eyes on the mirror before, but saw no one but herself. Christine began to shake when a frigid breath caressed her neck, and then a heavenly voice whispered right next to her ear. "Scream his name," the voice command.

The Vicomtess knew it was a trap for her husband, but alas, her voice did not obey her reason…**"RAOUL!"**

Within seconds, said hero yanked the door open, pulled his damsel out and charged in to face whatever danger lurked in the lavatory. But there was nothing. He looked around and saw nothing threatening. Christine watched as Raoul opened his mouth to question her, but then the door slammed shut and she heard a painful, bloodcurdling scream. She herself screamed and threw herself under the bed, somehow knowing she would never out run the danger. Slowly, the bathroom door opened as Raoul's body hit the floor. The concealed woman had to press both hands over her mouth to stop herself from screaming, gasping, crying, or making any sounds of the sort.

Her husband's corpse looked as it had been ripped to shreds. Christine could not even attempt to fool herself in thinking he might still be alive. Raoul's face could not be seen from her place, and for that she was grateful, so she could not see his eyes. The Vicomtess allowed a few tears to slide down her cheek in mourning of her childhood friend.

**_Thud_**

Christine's eyes shot open, and she saw a leather clad boot exit the bathroom, followed by another. The woman held her breath fearing the slightest sound would mean her doom.

_Thud…_ _Thud…_ _Thud…_ _Thud_

Chocolate brown eyes followed the shoes until they went out of her line of vision. Christine would have to move to be able to see them again, but she feared making a sound too much.

_Thud… Thud… Thud… Thud …_ _Thud… Thud… Thud… Thud…._

_Silence…_

The footsteps came to a sudden stop. Minutes or moments passed agonizingly slowly and Christine thought she might go mad with fear or faint from lack of air. Her body forced her to release the breath she was holding and take a fresh one. She waited for something to happen, thinking she had given herself away.

_Nothing…._

More time passed and Christine relaxed a little. She put her head in hands and tried to figure out her next move.

Then she felt something on each of her feet, before she had the chance to guess what it was she roughly pulled out from under the bed so fast her head began to spin. At first she screamed, but as soon as whatever was dragging her stopped, she froze. Christine ducked her head and waited for the inevitable.

However, she looked up when the stench of blood and death reached her nostrils. She saw Raoul again, still lying there; it felt as though he had died years ago rather than mere minutes. Silently, Christine said a little prayer so that her husband's soul may find peace in the afterlife.

She shivered when a frigid breeze grazed her scantily clad skin. Then she felt _him._ She knew _he_ was behind her, beseeching her to come to her dark angel. Almost against her will, Christine turned around and faced her Erik. A flashback came into mind of when she first laid eyes on his human form through the mirror, but that moment paled in comparison to how he appeared to her now. She was robbed of all breath at the sight of him. He stood-no- levitated above the balcony, clothed in the finest black as mist swirled around his feet. Now, his hair was messy and curly; the mask- the gleaming white mask that was always a stark contrast to his dark attire- was gone. In its place was the most handsome face she had ever seen. Why, he rivalled even Apollo! And his eyes, his angel eyes, were once a forest green was now a passionate, lustful red. Not too long ago Christine was convinced Erik's eyes could see into her very soul, but at this very moment in time she could feel them commanding her. Everything about him, his clothes, his stance, his expression just screamed danger, and yet his angel never wanted more. His lips did not move, but she could still hear him…inside her mind. _"Christine…Come to your Angel Of Music." _

Christine rose to her feet and in a trance-like state walked onto the balcony and shivered from apprehension. She stopped at the railing and hoped he would come closer, but all he did was offer his hand like he did as her angel, bringing her to his realm. _"Come…" _She would have to climb onto the rail if she wanted any chance of reaching him and she did. Barefoot, she stood on the rails, stretching out to him, but her hand was still inches from his. The young woman would have to step off the balcony to reach him, and if he did not catch her, she would plummet to her death- Christine could not blame him if he allowed it. His eyes beseeched, pleaded and begged her to take his hand.

She stepped off the balcony.

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Should I call this a Cliff-hanger or a balcony hanger *Bad Joke Music*

On an ironic note, Apollo was the Greek God of Music & Masculine Beauty

So... Must our dear Erik catch Christine or should he let her go SPLAT!?

Please Read & Review!


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